When You're Gone
by cherryade
Summary: Dean's gone and Sam's left to hunt on his own. Set between Season 3 and Season 4. Songfic.


Song: When You're Gone by Avril Lavigne

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Sam Winchester sailed gracefully through the air and landed not so gracefully on his ass in a field full of thistles. Muttering some of Dean Winchester's choice swear words, Sam tried to push himself up but winced as the sharp plants around him scratched painfully on his palms. Half expecting the above-mentioned brother to appear and help him up, Sam remained motionless for five seconds before realisation crashed painfully over him. The cool autumn breeze suddenly became frigid as Sam ignored the pain and pushed himself up icily. Damn, the werewolf's gone, he thought as he cursed himself for his brief trip into dreamland.

_I always needed time on my own and I never thought I'ld need you there when I cried._

He cursed the farmer that hired him to do the job. Ever since Dean's too-early demise, Sam had only been undertaking jobs that concerned demons. Exorcising demons with his mind was a way for him to lose himself in the blinding need for revenge. He needed the anger to consume him, wanted it, because with it, he could lose abit of the grief of losing the most important person to him. He knew the grief would never disappear. It'd been three months already, four long months that felt like four hundred years.

_And the days feel like years when I'm alone._

Sam felt as if he was wandering the world restlessly looking for companionship. True, Ruby had stayed overnight (and in his bed) sometimes but it was different. Sam still found himself asking for two singles at the motel counter when Ruby didn't stay over. Sam still reminded himself each morning to leave enough hot water for Dean but when he emerged from the shower, steam billowing, he'ld realise that Dean was, and will never be, there. That is, until Sam could find a way to get him back.

_And the bed where you lie, is made up on your side._

Spotting a set of footprints leading to a dark and dense forest, Sam sighed and reluctantly broke into a run. Running had been tough on him. He remembered the look on Dean's face when he saw the hellhounds and bolted. He had never seen that look on his face before. It was a look of fear and horrified resignation. He remembered that intolerable feeling that exploded in his chest when he saw Dean take the first step towards the door. He had ran after him and watched, with growing hatred, horror, grief and anger as the hounds ripped and tore like vultures enjoying a particularly large elephant carcass.

_When you walk away, I count the steps that you take._

Suddenly, the werewolf jumped on him. Sam was jolted rudely and abruptly out of his thoughts and swore as sharp teeth snapped at his neck. He stumbled and almost fell but managed to keep himself upright as he struggled with the werewolf. His left hand snaked to the gun that he had in his belt and gripping it tightly, he pointed the muzzle at the werewolf's heart. The werewolf, however, knocked it out of his hand before Sam even had his fingers on the trigger. Sam groaned in frustration as the gun skidded into a clump of bushes. I should have called Bobby, he thought as he battled with the snarling werewolf with his bare hands, I need a partner. The werewolf was stronger than Sam was.

_Do you see how much I need you right now?_

Bleeding and close to collapsing, Sam kicked the creature hard in the stomach and sent is flying towards a large oak. With a sickening thud, it collided with the tree trunk and slumped, dazed, on the floor. Seizing the opportunity, Sam retrieved the gun from the bushes and without batting an eyelid pumped three silver bullets into the werewolf's heart. Sighing in both relief and disappointment, he doused the dead werewolf with salt and lighter fluid and set fire to the corpse. The job was over but it was the 30th job he had completed alone and without Dean. He trudged to the Impala, sweaty and bloody, and was about to climb him when a sudden fatigue overtook him. The driver seat zoomed up to meet him and he blanked out.

_When you're gone,  
The pieces of my heart  
I'm missing you._

It was eight the next morning before Sam regained consciousness. Werewolf hunts took place at night and well, he'd been pretty beat up. Just then, a sudden longing for his brother caused a searing pain to tear through his chest. The events of the past four months caught up with him. He'd accepted the hunter's lifestyle after his father's death. He'd even started enjoying it because he was saving people, hunting things, with his big brother. Sure, he'd been a pain in the ass sometimes but Dean was always there. When Sam was hurt, the first person he'd see was Dean. Dean would be the first one to tell him it was okay. Dean would be the first one to help him up, to brush off his own injuries just so Sam would feel comfortable. Sam was suddenly aware of the blood that oozed from the cuts that were souvenirs from the fight the day before. He cursed when he realised that the driver's seat was stained with blood. He'd become protective of the car for it was the only link between him and his brother left.

_When you're gone the face I came to know is missing too  
When you're gone all the words I need to hear to always get me through the day  
And make it okay  
I miss you_

Sam retrieved a rag from the messy boot of the Impala and mopped up whatever could be mopped up and burned the rag. He then slid back into the driver's seat, slammed the door and drove to the nearest motel, stinking and desperate for a shower. God, he had been thinking of Dean too much lately. Their lives were so intertwined that whatever Sam did, there was some vague connection to Dean. Heck, even strolling into a diner and unconsciously ordering a pie dredged up memories of a very content Dean sinking his teeth into an apple pie that he would have proclaimed "Awesome!" He was never aware of this "intertwined lives" thing with his brother. It was only when he finally lost it that Sam realised how important the bond was to him.

_I never felt this way before  
Everything that I do reminds me of you_

Sam pulled into the motel, checked in and removed the necessary equipment from the boot. He hesitated before removing Dean's duffel from the boot too. It had been in there for the past four months and with Dean's eating habits, Sam was sure he would find a half-eaten pack of disgustingly melted M&Ms. He slid the key into the lock and it turned with a click. Stepping into the room, he took in his dark surroundings and shrugged as he dumped the bags onto the bed. One curtain was drawn and there was a crack stretching from the top to the bottom. It looked fragile and Sam noticed the thin strip of masking tape that held the window together as he locked the door. The paint was peeling from the wall and somehow, the bathroom door was hanging off its hinges. The entire room looked as if a single slam would cause the roof to cave in. Sam ignored the condition of the room he was given; he had stayed in too many rooms in the same condition and besides, he was aching all over. Blindly grabbing a duffle that he was sure contained clothes and a first-aid kit, he stumbled clumsily into the bathroom and didn't bother to lock the dangling door.

He stepped into the shower and winced as the running water stung his various cuts and bruises. The cuts were relatively small but learning from previous experiences, he knew they had to be cleaned up fast. Cuts, no matter how small, could lead to infections and in the Winchester household, it seemed to happen quite often despite the strict sanitary precautions they practiced. Sam wrapped a towel round his waist, picked up the first-aid kit, patched himself up, and was done within ten minutes. He grabbed the duffle from the floor and stuck his hand inside.

This isn't my bag, was Sam's first thought. He flinched unconsciously when he pulled out a bag of M&Ms that looked ancient. Dreading the memories that it would dredge up, he overturned the entire contents on the cold tile floors and the ensuing flood of emotions brought him to his knees and tears to his eyes. He had taken Dean's duffle by mistake. The number of clothes Dean had had was meager enough for Sam to know the story of how he acquired each one. He remembered how, when bad weather forced them to camp in isolated areas, Dean would fill the boredom by telling him stories of how he walked into the shop and flirted with the pretty saleswoman in the extremely short skirt only to realise minutes later that it was a salesman. Sam would laugh at Dean's disgusted expression and Dean would, in turn, lob a pillow at him and grin unwillingly.

_And the clothes you left they lie on the floor  
And they smell just like you  
I love the things that you do._

It might have been minutes or it might have been hours but Sam finally removed his bruised knees from the floor. His eyes were dry now and his countenance was one of fierce determination. He couldn't take it anymore. He needed Dean as much as Dean surely needed him now. Sam fought things that crawled out of the pit on a daily basis and he knew what they were like. If Hell could turn up creatures like that, he never wanted to go there. He had to save Dean.

Making up his mind, he picked up his mobile phone. It was time to call Ruby.

_We were made for each other  
Out here forever  
All I ever wanted was for you to know  
Everything I do I give my heart and soul  
I can hardly breathe I need you right here with me_

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End file.
